


mornings

by spaceburgers



Category: Free!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Morning Kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, you get the point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceburgers/pseuds/spaceburgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto and Haru's lazy, domestic mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mornings

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought to myself, "I'll just write a quick 500-word drabble before bed or something!" but then this happened instead.
> 
> It's basically just shameless fluff, and I have no excuse for it, except that this OTP gives me very deep and soul-rendering manpain. So much pain.

Makoto is usually the earlier of the both of them to wake up in the mornings, even though they go to bed at the same time. Haru sleeps like a log. Makoto, however, is the exact opposite, and the moment the first rays of sunlight filter in through the blinds Makoto's already blinking awake. It takes him a moment for his eyes to get adjusted to the sunlight and for his sleep-addled brain to start up properly, and when he's finally awake and coherent the first thing he does is to press his lips to the top of Haru's head.

They usually fall asleep tangled up in each other, a mess of arms and legs and blankets twisted beneath their limbs, but by now it's become muscle memory, the way Makoto's arms circle around Haru's waist, holding him close even in his sleep; the way Haru presses his face to Makoto's shoulder, inhaling the familiar musk of Makoto's scent. Usually Makoto manages to gracefully extricate himself from Haru's hold to stumble to the bathroom to freshen up, but occasionally he decides to just stay in bed until Haru's awake too, and today seems to be one of those lazy days when all he wants to do is lie in bed, content with the knowledge that he's here, with the love of his life in his arms, and that's more than enough for him. Makoto's always been a simple guy. There isn't much more he wants in life than a quiet, peaceful lifestyle - and of course, Haru.

Makoto watches Haru's sleeping face, smoothing his thumb over Haru's cheek, tracing little circles until he moves his hand to sweep Haru's bangs out of his forehead, then running his fingers absentmindedly through that black hair. He likes seeing Haru like this, peaceful and quiet and calm. He likes feeling the minute rise and fall of Haru's chest, likes observing the sweep of his eyelashes over his cheek whenever his eyes twitch in his sleep. He wonders what Haru's dreaming of - probably swimming, he thinks fondly, reaching down to cup Haru's face with his hand. He rubs his thumb under the curve of Haru's jaw, and waits for Haru to wake up.

Makoto likes watching Haru wake up too, likes watching how his eyes flutter open to reveal a deep blue, a little cloudy from sleep at first, but slowly it clears to reveal the piercing shade of blue that Makoto likes to associate with the ocean on calm, windless days. Or rather, it's the ocean that reminds Makoto of Haru's eyes - Haru's eyes that, when they flutter open in the morning, sees Makoto before it even registers anything else, and it's that thought that makes Makoto press a chaste kiss to Haru's forehead, mumbling in hushed tones:

"Good morning, Haru."

"Mmf... morning."

Makoto smiles at Haru's sleepy reply, and presses some more kisses to Haru's face just for good measure, before Haru's grumbling under his breath and pushing Makoto away.

"Your breath stinks," Haru informs Makoto before rolling onto his front, pressing his face into his pillow. "Go brush your teeth."

"I could say the same for you," Makoto counters, scooting closer to Haru and trying to coax Haru to roll over again so Makoto can have a clear view of his face, but Haru refuses to budge, instead turning to face the opposite side instead, so all Makoto can see now is his back.

“ _Haru_ ,” Makoto whines, pressing closer so that they’re spooning, his front pressed against Haru’s back. He rests one arm over Haru’s side, effectively trapping him to the spot, then puts his chin on Haru’s shoulder. Makoto finds himself pouting, in spite of himself, but then again if Haru’s being so stubborn this early in the morning, then he figures he’s allowed some measure of childishness too.

“If you let me kiss you properly I’ll make you mackerel for breakfast,” Makoto promises, and he feels Haru squirm under his hold.

“Your mackerel sucks. You’ll just end up burning it again,” Haru mumbles, but even so he slowly shifts so that he’s facing Makoto now, and finally Makoto has a clear view of Haru’s face – messy hair, blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, soft lips that he’s suddenly overcome by the irresistible urge to kiss, and so he does, just because he can, and that fact – the fact that he can kiss Haru _just because_ – is still enough to make him ridiculously happy.

He kisses Haru gently, raising one hand to cup his cheek again. He kisses Haru into the bed beneath them, taking his time, leisurely melding his lips against Haru’s, smiling when he feels Haru kiss back, one arm coming to wrap around the back of Makoto’s neck. They kiss, close-lipped and chaste, until Makoto’s pulling away and brushing at Haru’s bangs again, smiling at the faint flush that’s dusting Haru’s cheeks.

There’s just something about the way Haru looks like this, happy and content in the early morning sunlight, that just makes Makoto smile. It makes Makoto smile to see Haru smiling, because Haru’s smile is such a rare sight to behold, he’s decided to treasure it every time he manages to catch a glimpse of it.

And it’s become more frequent recently, Makoto thinks. Maybe it’s just because ever since moving in together, he’s gotten to spend more time together with Haru, so logically, it would mean a greater chance of seeing Haru’s smiles too.

But Makoto likes to think that maybe he’s the reason for that. He wants to think that he makes Haru just as happy as Haru makes him.

Because he _is_ happy. Haru makes him happy. Haru makes him happy with cold toes pressed to his calves when he wakes up before Makoto on chilly winter mornings. Haru makes him happy with mackerel being on the menu without fail whenever it’s Haru’s turn to cook (which is often). Haru makes him happy when he drags Makoto to the nearest public pool at least three times a week, even when they’re both down to their necks with emails to write and bills to pay. Haru makes him happy by being Haru, by being the exact same Haru that Makoto grew up with, the exact same Haru that Makoto fell in love with all those years ago, the exact same Haru that Makoto knows he will continue to love, unendingly, no matter what happens and no matter how much time passes.

“Breakfast?” Makoto asks, still on top of Haru, still smiling down at him as he brushes his thumb against the curve of Haru’s cheeks, and Haru reaches up to grab Makoto’s shoulder and pull him back down to the bed with him.

“Later,” Haru answers, rolling on top of Makoto instead, and then leaning down to seal their lips together for the second time that morning.

Makoto’s happy, and he knows Haru is too.

It’s a great start to what Makoto knows will be another great day together.


End file.
